


Lovebug

by BrenanaBread



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Awkward Singing, F/M, Fluff, Lovebug, Piano, Reveal, angstdrien, he knows, jonas brothers (why am i like this), musical Adrien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:23:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrenanaBread/pseuds/BrenanaBread
Summary: So obvious.Marinette is Ladybug and it’sso obvious.Adrien can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner.(Adrien searches for a way to tell Marinette he knows her secret)





	Lovebug

**Author's Note:**

> This really only makes sense if you know the song "Lovebug" by the Jonas Brothers. It is a piece of 2008 music history, go listen.
> 
> This has undergone so many edits I can't even read it anymore, but I just needed to shove it out into the world. Please enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: This fic has been translated into Russian!  
> Click [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5548177) if you'd like to check it out :)

_So obvious._  


Marinette is Ladybug and it’s _so obvious._

Adrien can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner.

She leads without even trying, an air of confidence and determination ever-present in her posture and smile and demeanor and _how has he been so blind?_

She radiates kindness and light. She’s candid and just, always careful to find the root of a problem, to not assume people are evil, but remember that small bouts of anger are natural and no one deserves punishment for being exploited in a moment of weakness. And she’s a little hot tempered and stubborn, just enough to remind Adrien of the passionate fighter beneath her quiet surface.

How has he missed how their eyes sparkle in the same way? A light blue tinged with silver gradient bounded by a dark ring holding the swirling pool of colors together as if they would melt away without its guidance. Eyes that have burned their way into his mind each night, yet somehow he has failed to make the connection? He hasn’t noticed how Marinette’s triumphant smile after winning an argument mirrors Ladybug’s victorious grin at the end of a battle? He should have compared Ladybug’s eye roll whenever he tells a particularly egregious pun to Marinette’s when Alya’s theories become especially absurd. How has he never _seen_ her before?

And her _laugh_. He has never recognized her laugh! How it bubbles up inside her, bursting through her lips, refusing to be contained. Her eyes squinted in merriment, only a sliver a blue peeking through sooty eyelashes, and her mouth wide, never halting the flow of the melodic sound. She doesn’t hold anything back to seem cute or demure. She lets it all rocket forward, explode into the world uninhabited.

He needs to tell her.

Their identities are to be kept secret, he understands this, but it’s no longer fair. He wants them to be on a level playing field, to have the same knowledge about each other. He can’t keep this from her, he won’t keep this from her. She deserves to know he’s made the connection, and she deserves to make her own connection as well. He wants her to truly see him the way he now truly sees her. He needs her to know. It’s not even a consideration. It simply _is_.

But how should he tell her? He has to somehow convince her to be alone with him. She’s usually so nervous and jittery around him. But Adrien knows she’s too nice to outwardly reject him or refuse to see him, especially if he asks in front of other classmates. He almost feels like he’s taking advantage of her kindness. He tells himself it’s necessary. He has to let her know. He could never justify keeping her in the dark while he has such a crucial piece of knowledge.

Where should he take her? How should he let her know? Saying it without preamble could make her uncomfortable. He writes-off telling her outright. He’ll just make it obvious that he knows. And she can take the reins from there.

He wishes he could just pull her aside and breakdown. Fall to pieces and lay it all out for her to see. Tell her he knows she’s Ladybug. Tell her he’s Chat Noir. Tell her he couldn’t believe that he could ever love her any more than he already did, but knowing she’s just as kind and courageous without the mask as she is with it makes his heart want to burst from a hot, soupy mix of happiness and excitement and elation and adoration. He feels infatuated with her from the inside out, the image of her endearing smile seeping into his mind like a warm embrace. 

He can’t tug her aside and awkwardly try to describe his thoughts and feelings. He refuses to let a second go by where he feels like anything he says or does seems disingenuous to her. Adrien needs Marinette to understand what he’s trying to convey without him having to force the words out in a clumsy pile. He wishes he could just let his heart croon and the words float out of his body, hanging in the air like a balloon caught at the ceiling of a tall building, waiting to be dragged down or to slowly lose helium until it falls onto the floor in a heap of mylar and string.

He sees Marinette walking out of their classroom, joined at the arm with Alya, speaking animatedly and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She steps with so much force her heels lift out of her shoes and her light pink ballet flats flutter slightly, like the butterflies in his stomach.

The fluttering makes him pause for a moment, then jolts him into action. He jumps into their path, halting their movement. Marinette’s smile fades from her face and Adrien mourns the loss, promising himself he will do anything to bring it back. Her happiness has become his drug.

“Hey, Marinette,” he starts, his voice catching on her name. He clears his throat and continues. “Would you like to come with me to my house?” He hesitates, unsure if he’s asking too much too soon. “T-to work on homework?” he adds, hoping it will lessen some of the tension his original question may have caused.

Marinette’s arm drops from Alya’s as two sets of eyes widen at him. Alya’s jaw flops open. Marinette drops her heels back into her shoes, shortening her appearance. Her neck dips down, but her shoulders remain setback and high, reminding Adrien of her innate confidence even when she’s unsure. He smiles at the thought.

“To-today?” she asks. “Right thi-now? Now-now?”

“If that’s alright with you,” he says with a slight smile, really nothing more than a hopeful quirk to the corners of his lips.

She gives him a similar, fleeting smile, and a deep pink blush gradually darkens the tops of her cheeks. “I ju-ust need to with in check my parents. Check parents my with in!” Adrien can’t help but find her fast, stumbling words even more endearing now that he knows that same voice calms all of Paris on a weekly basis. Marinette closes her eyes and steadies herself with a short, shallow breath. “Check in with my parents,” she says slowly, pronouncing each word like it were the sacred speech of an ancient hymn.

“I can walk you to your house,” Adrien offers encouragingly.

Marinette begins to tip her head forward in a nod when Adrien’s limo pulls up in front of the school.

Cringing in on himself and squeezing his eyes closed, Adrien corrects “Or we can drive to your house?”

Before Marinette can respond and potentially break his heart, Alya becomes Adrien’s savior and jumps to his rescue.

“Don’t worry about it, girl. I can go talk to your parents for you, it’s no trouble. Your mom’s been telling me to stop by more often anyway, it’s a win-win.”

Adrien is envious of Alya’s quick thinking and easy relationship with Marinette’s family. She can casually mention visiting them unescorted, and Adrien can’t imagine ever having that relationship with any family, not even his own.

He still smiles gratefully at her and waits on bated breath for Marinette’s response.

“Uh hm that’s re-really sweet of you. Th-thank you.”

Though Marinette’s smile is small and Adrien can tell it’s as carefully constructed as any of the ones he doles out at photoshoots, the sight eases some of the anxiety-induced nausea gnawing at his stomach.

He nods in the direction of the limo and offers out his arm for Marinette to take. “Let’s go.”

Her eyes are focused on the ground, watching the careful steps of her feet, and she doesn’t notice the arm held out to her. He awkwardly drops his empty arm and his hand clings to his bag’s long strap, needing something to hold onto.The pair walks down the steps in silence, Marinette staring at her shoes, Adrien staring at the top of her head. He loves how her hair shines in the sunlight, changing from a deep navy, almost black to the untrained eye, to a subtle blue, like the horizon just before dawn. He wonders if she knows this about her hair. If she knows that at night, when she’s swinging around buildings, her hair catches in the street lamp's yellow glow and the strands burst into a thousand different shades of shimmery blue and his heart leaps into his throat. He wishes he could share the image with her.

When they reach the limo, Adrien opens the door and steps to the side, allowing Marinette to slide across the seats first. She seems uncertain, but gives him a slight smile. Adrien returns it full force.

Before getting into the limo himself, he walks to his bodyguard and explains that Marinette will be accompanying him to the house this afternoon to work on homework together. The gorilla replies with a grunt that Adrien understands as affirmation. He walks back to where the limo door hangs open and eagerly hops inside, trailing the door closed behind him.

Marinette sits in the far corner, staring out the window on her side, her pink backpack sitting on her lap. When the door clicks into place, she turns and makes eye contact with Adrien. He wishes he could make her feel more comfortable.

Reaching out a hand, he asks “Can I take your bag?”

Her lips lift in a soft smile. “Sure, th-thank you.”

He takes the bag and places it in front of them on one of the seats perpendicular to their own. He drops his own bag next to it, and as the limo speeds off onto the Parisian streets, his bag topples over and leans heavily on hers. He wants to laugh. The school bags look cute like that, like they’re cuddling with one another. 

Turning to voice his thoughts to the quiet girl sitting next to him, Adrien catches Marinette’s ferociously blushing face while she stares at the snuggling bags. It, in turn, makes him blush.

They spend the ride in charged silence. Marinette fidgets with the tips of her fingers and the hem of her shirt. Adrien constantly shifts his body, never finding a conformable position for long. The limo takes wide turns, sometimes jostling Adrien enough that he grasps the side of his seat to prevent himself from falling closer to Marinette, sometimes making Marinette careen towards Adrien before she can catch herself on the door handle. Truthfully, there is enough space between the two that the slight shifts in the limo don’t force them on top of each other, but each centimeter that disappears between them seems like so much more.

The trip to Adrien’s house from the school is not a long one. They feel every bump, every bend in the street like a shockwave. Their collective nervous squirming increases tenfold, and when the limo finally reaches the Agreste gates, Adrien and Marinette are separated only by their palms resting on the leather between them. 

The limo pulls through the entrance and stops at the front steps and Adrien realizes he hasn’t taken a breath in far too long. He opens his mouth to let in air as his fumbling hand opens the car door. He does not understand how he can be this nervous. As he steps out onto the ground, he pulls his and Marinette’s bag with him. 

Marinette quickly follows him out into the sunlight, gently taking her backpack from his grasp.

“Thanks,” she says, breaking their carefully constructed silence.

Adrien begins walking up the steps with Marinette directly behind him. He spends more time looking over his shoulder to make sure she hasn’t run away than is strictly socially acceptable.

They enter his house, footsteps echoing in the vast entrance. The whole room is tinged with a slate blue austerity cultivated from years of silence and isolation. Adrien wishes he could offer Marinette the kind of bright, warm home he knows she’s accustomed to, but when he shifts his body to face her and apologize, she’s already staring right at him. Her eyes are alert, brow crinkled. Her lips are parted, poised to speak, but she says nothing. After a beat, she smiles encouragingly and takes a step closer to him.

Her hand lifts and she flicks her wrist in a gesture that encompasses the whole house as she asks “Are we going to your r-room? Or is there…somewhere else you usually do homework?”

Adrien scratches the back of his head reflexively, a nervous habit. “Uh actually, Marinette, I was really hoping I could show you something first? If that would be alright?”

Though she seems taken off guard, she nods.

They stand motionless for a long moment before Marinette adds in a small voice that somehow fills the entire room “Um, wh-where? Where are we going? Should we be going?”

Adrien’s eyes widen, and a small squeak sneaks past his lips. He feels his cheeks flush in mortification. “O-of course. Sorry. Follow me, it’s just a few rooms over.” 

He darts out of the entrance room, hoping to escape from his embarrassment. He had completely forgotten to _move_. His bag bounces hastily against his side and he doesn’t check to see if Marinette is keeping up behind him because _how could he have forgotten to start walking? Right after saying he wanted to show her something?_ Did he think it would magically appear in front of them at will? He knows the tops of his cheeks and neck are a dusty rose and he can’t bear to let Marinette see how anxious and uneasy he is. Especially when all he wants to do is make her feel calm and comfortable around him. 

They walk through long corridors which branch off into smaller, narrower hallways. The walls and floors are all blindingly white with silver and gold accents. Pictures and paintings strategical fill up the empty space, alluding to family Adrien has never known. The whole building seems to mock him.

Adrien wonders what his house feels like to Marinette. Does it seem so bone chillingly cold to her as well? Do the people seem far away and lifeless in a way that steals her breath? He knows homes should be warm and nurturing, but he’s only ever seen apathy.

Adrien slows his steps when they near the door, feet moving through jello. He visits this room often, but it feels strange to bring someone new with him and the air is too viscous to speed through no matter how hard he tries. He stops in front of the white frame, gently opening the heavy door. It doesn’t creak, nothing in the Agreste household does, but he almost wishes it would just to break the silence.

The room is wide with windows lining the far wall. Silver lines swirl inside the white marble of the floor. A large, inky black butterfly patterns the center of the floor, on top of which rests a tall grand piano. 

It’s wrapped in a crushed velvet, maroon piano cover, protecting it from the stagnant and melancholy air. Adrien walks into the room, dropping his bag on a chair by the door. He gestures for Marinette to do the same. 

“Could you help me with this, Marinette?” Adrien asks once he stands next to the piano. She bounds to his side and reaches out, trying to follow his movements.

He carefully lifts the cover, slowly displaying a sleek, onyx colored piano. She scrambles to the opposite side of the instrument and helps him lift. The fabric flows off the piano effortlessly, leaving it naked to the world. Adrien walks towards Marinette, leading her through the proper steps of folding the cover neatly to avoid accumulating dust on the inside surface.

He pulls out the piano bench, hidden underneath the instrument. He lifts its wooden top and places the piano cover inside it.

He sits on the bench, dragging it closer to the piano to tuck himself in enough for his feet to rest on the pedals. He places his fingers on the keys and smiles at their cool touch. It’s not cold the way the rest of the house is. Its chill is fresh and freeing, like the wind whisking his hair back as he speeds through the Parisian streets.

His eyes connect with Marinette’s and he grins broadly. “Would you come sit next to me?”

She smiles in response and makes her way to his side, sitting on the edge of the bench to give him as much space as possible.

“So, I’m sure you’re wondering what this is all about,” he says.

She laughs. “A little.” 

Adrien considers his words. He’s laying the groundwork for a confession. “I’ve been thinking about this song a lot recently, and it reminds me of you. I wanted to share it.”

Marinette’s face flames, but her eyes light up and she smiles so wide Adrien thinks he might faint. He wants to make her smile like that with every word he ever says. “I feel honored,” she laughs placing her hand over her heart dramatically, her stutter forgotten in the past. “Which song is it?”

Adrien shakes his head. She has to make the connection herself. “I think you’ll recognize it pretty quickly.”

She raises a brow and eyes him critically. “If you say so.”

His shoulders shake in a silent laugh and he fits his fingers to the higher octaves. His hands arch, only the pads of his fingers grazing the keys. With one final breath, he leans into the piano, toes gently pressing onto the rightmost pedal, fingertips languidly nudging the keys.

The song starts out sweet and stilted. It’s rusty and slow, like an old-fashioned music box squealing a high-pitched tune and lulling a child to sleep. The notes are precise as he taps out a melody. After the first two measures, his fingers dance down the keys in a scale and he pauses at the bottom in a full chord. 

He waits for a moment, building the suspense. When he hits the breaking point, he grins roguishly and winks at Marinette. His hands bounce along the keys, reverberating in the empty room, breathing life into an ancient sadness. The notes spring along vivaciously for another eight beats before Adrien opens his mouth to sing.

_“Called her for the first time yesterday”_

He chances a glance at Marinette. Her nose wrinkles in thought.

_“Finally found the missing part of me  
Felt so close, but you were far away”_

He nudges her knee with his own.

_“Left me without anything to say”_

He lets the last note of the verse ring out, vibrato wavering uncomfortably as he hits the most important part of the song. Marinette smiles encouragingly at him.

_“Now I’m speechless”_

That hits a little too close to home for him and he pushes through a croak.

_“Over the edge I’m just breathless”_

As he nears his goal, he slows the song down slightly. 

_“I never thought that I’d catch this”_

He stops his hands’ movement over the piano altogether. He turns his whole body to face Marinette. He doesn’t want to give her any excuse to overlook what he’s about to say.

_“Lovebug again”_

He says the lyrics almost without pitch. He breathes heavily in the silence, chest rising and falling rapidly, as her breathing stops completely. Her eyes widen until they take up her entire face. He can see nothing else but those startling blues, he drowns in them.

After a long stretch of silence, her mouth opens and air rushes inside, expanding her lungs and lifting her shoulders enough that they brush Adrien’s. He didn’t realize how close they had become.

The touch shocks his system into action and lithe fingers start up again, followed by a hesitant voice.

_“Hopeless  
Head over heels in the moment”_

He taps his foot against hers and she shivers.

_“I never thought that I’d get hit  
By this”_

He slows down once again and emphasizes the next words.

_“Lovebug again”_

This time, it’s Marinette who stops him. She places her hand on top of his, stilling his movements. Her fingers tighten around his own and her eyes search him. He hopes she finds what she’s looking for.

_“I can’t get your smile out of my mind”_

He barely thinks before he adds, “It’s true, I can’t”

_“I think about your eyes all the time_  
_You’re beautiful but you don’t even try  
Modesty is just so hard to find”_

He chuckles. “Everything about you is hard to find.”

_“Now I’m speechless_  
_Over the edge I’m just breathless_  
_I never thought that I’d catch this_  
_Lovebug again”_

To lighten the mood, he improvs a scat section over the word “lovebug” and elbows Marinette in the ribs, earning a little laugh from her.

_“Hopeless_  
_Head over heels in the moment_  
_I never thought that I’d get hit_  
_By this”_

Marinette stills his fingers again. She shifts on the piano bench, swinging a leg over the side so she straddles it facing him. “You know?” she asks hesitantly. He nods shallowly, never letting his eyes stray from hers. “B-but how?” she wonders. He knows she knows the answer.

When his fingers start playing again, Marinette joins in. 

_“Lovebug again”_

They sing the final words together.

Adrien’s arched hands flatten on the keys, collapsing. He dips his head, peaking out at her behind blond fringe. She reaches out a hand and delicately brushes the hair out of his eyes. “Chat?”

He smiles sheepishly. “Hi, Lovebug.”

“How did you…? What…? What is happening?” Even through her questioning, her voice is soft and Adrien is so happy she’s moved closer to him instead of running away.

“I didn’t know how to tell you I knew. And I didn’t know how to tell you it’s okay, because it’s just me. I really hope it’s okay that it’s just me.” He leans his forehead against hers tentatively.

Her hand drops to the piano bench. “It’s you,” she whispers, “there’s no ‘just’ about it.”

“It’s me.” He places his hand on top of hers carefully, his thumb ghosting gentle circles across her knuckles. “It’s you.”

They sink into the moment, pressing against each other and vibrating with nervous energy. Adrien wants to pull her closer and feel her chest rise and fall against his own, but also hold her at arm’s length so he can memorize each freckle that dusts her cheek and examine the criss cross patterning of her eyelashes. His indecision leaves him paralyzed, but getting lost in the moment is its own kind of reward and Adrien can’t find it in himself to regret it for a second.

Marinette curls herself against his side, fitting her head against his shoulder, dipping slightly into the side of his neck. Tendrils of hair tickle Adrien’s collarbone and he stifles a sigh. He carefully wraps an arm around her back and she fits her own around his waist.

“Is this…okay?” he asks hesitantly. “Does this mean that we’re okay?”

She tilts her head back to shyly peer at his face. His eyebrows are raised and he bites his lower lip, anxious. She straightens her back so their faces are level and stretches her neck to sweetly bump her nose against his. “I think it means we’re purrfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Since I'm obsessed with this song in relation to Miraculous Ladybug, I've actually cosplayed Adrien while playing it! (Unfortunately, I didn't have a Marinette to awkwardly serenade)  
> Moral of the story: I've basically accidentally acted out something I've written. I'm such a creep.
> 
> For more content, check me out as [jattendschaton](http://jattendschaton.tumblr.com) on tumblr! I mostly just gush about miraculous, but I'm sure we'll have a good time together :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [turn right](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326692) by [agrestenoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agrestenoir/pseuds/agrestenoir)




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